


Redhead's Episode Codas

by RedHead



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Coda, Episode Related, Episode Remix, Episode Tag, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:06:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHead/pseuds/RedHead
Summary: Coda (noun): the concluding passage of a piece or movement, typically forming an addition to the basic structure.An anthology of different episode accompaniments, from additions to fix-its to re-writes. Chapter titles include show, episode #, and additional info where relevant.





	1. flash 2x10 - Barry, nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry wakes up from a nightmare and finds no comfort.

Barry woke up mid-shout (mid scream), bolt upright, spine straight (too straight, too whole). 

The sweat on his face (on every pore) helped mask the tears (but not well enough). He could taste the salt in is mouth anyway. It helped cut the taste of blood, the copper iron flavor like acid in his throat threatening to bubble up, to cut off his scream, threatening to drown.

He heaved in deep breaths and fisted the blankets. He was alone. Alone. No Zoom. No Patty. He was in his bed. No Zoom. It was a dream (it was always a dream). It was a dream (except the one time that it hadn’t been). It was a dream (but one day it wouldn’t be when Zoom returned).

He shuddered and pulled his knees up. The blankets fell. His knees knocked together. There was no knock on his door, no creak in the hall from the floorboards. Joe had stopped knocking after the first week; stopped pacing in the hall after the first month. Patty was gone. He was alone.

Ragged sounds ripped themselves from his throat, gross sobs. He clutched himself (his hair, his heart, his skin and broken soul). He was alone.

He couldn’t breathe. Sobs chocked his throat with bile. Barry swallowed it back and cried more quietly, shuddered more violently.

Patty. Linda. Chased away from Central City. His father, who was fishing out of state, far away, far as he could get from Barry. Joe, chased away from his own hallway. Iris, Cisco, Caitlin – chased away from asking, anymore. Ronnie. Eddie. His mother. The ones who left, the ones he’d failed, the ones departed.

And the one left behind. He was alone.

Barry shuddered, shivered, chill seeping in, bones soaking it up. Cold sweat on skin and hands like ice. Barry breathed and his face was wet.

Every night, his back broke. He was dragged across the city, aware but unable to move. Paralyzed in more ways than one, he was bloody and beaten. He was unmasked before the people he was meant to save. Prepped for death, so much less glorious and righteous than they’d promised for ‘heroes’like him. Suspended and immobile, he readied himself for an end to the pain. 

Every night, another person he loved died while he slept, while he watched, while he failed them. Every night, Zoom laughed and he lost.

Fresh tears squeezed from the corner of Barry’s eyes. The minute on the alarm clock rolled over. A full 45 seconds since he’d awoken. He couldn’t slow his brain down. He couldn’t speed his body up, not enough.

Every night, he got a little bit more ready to give up (to give in).

Every night, he dreamt of Zoom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On tumblr, this one was titled: "The One Left Behind". Episode 2x10 is when Patty breaks up with Barry, and it felt fitting to write a piece where Barry is now left alone to deal with the nightmares he's been having (which we see him having in mid season 2).
> 
> It also gave rise to my later, longer piece called Exsomnis.


	2. legends 1x12 - snart siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in Legends 1x12 "Last Refuge" when the Pilgrim kidnaps the team's loved ones.

When they discovered The Pilgrim had their loved ones in custody, Len didn’t think about it beyond the immediate and reactive  _need_  to save Lisa. The picture of her on the console was of Lisa from this past year and it didn’t even occur to him—an oversight, obviously, considering time travel—that the Lisa picked up by The Pilgrim might not be the adult Lisa he had left behind (with little more than a succinct text saying he’d be out of town) in 2016.

No, the Lisa in the holding cell on The Pilgrim’s time ship hadn’t been from 2016, or even 2015… she was a  _child_.

Len’s stomach dropped when he saw her. They’d all boarded The Pilgrim’s ship and immediately sought out their loved ones—’all’ meaning himself, Sara, Raymond, and Stein—and Lisa was there, standing in the group of them at the back of the cell, the most shielded by the adults, a stubborn cast to her face that was supposed to hide how scared she was but wasn’t going to convince any adult, let alone on Len.

How old was she? Would she even recognize him?

Len couldn’t take his eyes off her as Raymond told the occupants of the cell they’d been kidnapped by a time traveler but were safe now, and Sara focused on the important part—actually opening the cell. Raymond’s girl rushed forward immediately, Sara’s dad moved forward for a hug, but Len wasted no time in moving toward the back of the slate-grey space toward the freaked out kid.

He’d put her around 9 years old, with rounder features and past her grade 3 growth spurt. She had a bad hair clip phase and he’d spent the whole year she was 9 nicking more butterfly clips from every store he wandered into… if memory served, it would’ve been around ’93. The Pilgrim had picked her up in Jax’s birth year then, probably the first one abducted.

She was staring up at him with obvious distrust. If anything, it was a good sign, but he knelt down to her level—well, a bit shorter than her actually, she’d been a tall-ish kid.

“You recognize me?” He asked, voice devoid of any of it’s usual edges. He was itching to hug her, to reach out and comfort her, but he knew better than to hug a scared Snart child if she didn’t recognize him. The others were filing out behind them and he felt eyes on his back but ignored them. Probably Sara.

Lisa’s lip trembled just a bit before she squared her shoulders and nodded.

Thank god. “It’s me, Lise.”

She started to tear up and he felt like an asshole. “L-Lenny?”

“Yeah, Sis.”

He opened his arms for a hug then and she launched herself into them. Her grip was too tight and she was crying, a rare sight for either of them by that age, but he couldn’t blame her. He patted her hair and tried to dodge the butterfly clips and tangles. She was insisting on brushing and styling it herself by that age, and for a second he smiled at the memory. In about a year he’d butcher cutting it for her when gum got stuck in it, and he’d save some money from a job to have it cut professionally for her at an upscale salon in order to fix the mess he’d made of it.

Little Lisa’s tears didn’t last long, and he wasn’t surprised. But he was almost sad when she started to pull back from the hug. How long had it been since he’d actually hugged his sister? To her, it probably would have been yesterday.

“You’re so  _old_.” She complained, sniffed and wiping her tears on the back of her sleeve.

His face couldn’t even smirk, it just fell into a smile. “Maybe you’re so young.”

It did get a smile out of her, and a little laugh. “Your hair is grey!”

“Thanks for pointing it out,” he grumbled, standing. He offered her his hand and after a second, she took it.

“Where are we?”

“Not exactly sure. These ships go anywhere, anytime. But you’ll be back home in no time.”

“Are we… really in the future?”

“We are. Turns out time travel is the real deal.”

“And the lady who took me, she’s from the future?”

“Yes.”

“Why did she take me and the other people?”

“Because she doesn’t like me and my friends, and thought we’d stop what we’re doing if she had you guys.”

“But you stopped her?”

“That’s right.”

They were out of the ship and walking across the expanse of ground toward the Waverider. Lisa’s head was on a swivel, looking every which way at once.

“So you’re a time traveller?”

“For now.”

“What year are you from?”

“2016.”

“2016! Does that mean I’m…” he could see the gears turning in her head and she was using her free hand to count.

“You’re turning 32 this year.”

“I’m so old!”

He laughed. “Future-you would take offense.”

“Am I pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

She pouted, “you’re just saying that.”

Some things would never change. He smiled. “Nope. You’re a heartbreaker.”

She was bouncing back from kidnapping and time travel pretty quickly.

“Am I a time traveller too?”

He hesitated. “No…”

“Why not?”

“You’ve got better things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

Were kids always this curious? He was glad they hadn’t run into anyone yet, on the Waverider, heading toward his room where an amnesia pill was waiting. He didn’t want her on the bridge where she could run into… well, anyone. He didn’t want anyone to see him or Lisa so vulnerable.

“Because you’ve gotta live it, find out yourself.”

She pouted. He smiled again.

“This is us.” He motioned to the room and she was full of easy glee again, just like that, finally letting go of his hand to rush in and look around. She hopped onto the bed and her legs dangled over the side.

“This is where you sleep?”

“Yep.”

“ _Iiiiii_  wanna’ time travel. You get a cool room and a space ship and adventures.”

He laughed. It was too much. Trying to reconcile Lisa when she was older with this little girl, the memory and the cognitive dissonance at once was too much. When she aged, Lisa would learn how to properly weaponize her whine, how to manipulate with ease. This little kid was just whining to  _whine_. Something about that felt special, pure, and it made feel a little him reverent as he took a seat beside her.

“Maybe next time,” he lied. There was no way he’d ever let Lisa get caught up in the horrifying mess that was time travel if he had a say in it.

Her voice was smaller when she spoke next, swinging her legs, biting her lip. It was a habit she’d drop once she started wearing lipstick. “Does that mean I… have to go home now?”

His chest clenched. For a moment, he hated everything. He hated himself. More than anything else, he hated Lewis. “I’m sorry, Lise.”

She looked up at him with big blue eyes. “But it… it’s okay, right? You’ll still be there? I mean… the you that I know.”

He unstuck his throat to answer. “Yeah. I’ll always be there for you.” No matter what, he was going to get his younger self back into the timeline so he could grow up protecting Lisa.

She nodded and looked down at her legs. “And I grow up? And don’t have to live with dad anymore?”

He knew it was crazy and impossible to keep her here on the ship, but god he wanted to. He wanted to so much it made his eyes burn. He reached out and rubbed circles onto her back. “That’s right. You grow up and never look back.”

She nodded, resolved, and he was reminded of what he’d known for a long time: she was a damn sight tougher than he ever was. “Okay.”

He wished he had an excuse to delay it, but he grabbed out the pill she had to take—with a label on the package that said it was in convenient, chewable format for kids. He’d never understand how Gideon could make things the way she/it did.

“You gotta’ take this now.”

“What’s it for?”

“It’ll put you to sleep. And when you wake up, you’ll be back home.”

There was no point in telling her she’d forget this, not when, well, she’d forget this.

“We’re going skating on Saturday,” she whispered, plucking up the pill in her little fingers. Maybe she understood, anyway. “You promised to take me.”

“Then I’m looking forward to it.”

She nodded and put the pill in her mouth, chewed it. After a minute, she leaned into his arm. “Lenny?”

“Yeah, Sis?”

“Promise me that… you never leave me behind?”

“You’re a tough kid, Lise. One day, you won’t want me looking out for you.”

“Just… promise?”

He wasn’t sure if it counted as retroactively breaking a promise if he agreed not to do something he’d already done, too many times to count, in one way or another. “I promise.”

She yawned, drowsy already from the pill, and he stood and convinced her to lie back in the bed, tucked her in and smoothed hair away from her forehead to gently kiss there. She was old enough not to need to be tucked in, not for him to tell her to ‘sleep tight’ but she didn’t complain, just pulled off the butterfly clips that were digging into her head and placed them next to the bed before Len flicked the lights low in the room and retreated. He spared her a last glance before he moved out into the hall, too many things moving around inside his heart to place or name, feelings bubbling up that made him ache. Lost time. Family. Memories.

But each step toward the bridge reminded him of where he was, who he was now, who he had to be, and he pushed those feelings back to where they were best suited, somewhere compartmentalized and stashed away.

After they’d dropped Lisa back off, him carrying her sleeping form silently into her room in the night, technically only minutes after she’d been taken, the hairclips were still there. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he stashed one in the pocket of his jacket – a reminder, good luck charm, and a promise.

 


	3. flash 3x20 - Iris and Savitar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Savitar's identity is revealed, Iris seeks him out to see for herself.

She waits for him. She’s not sure how she’s so certain he’ll arrive, except that she knows him better than he knows himself some days.

Barry has no clue how to find him. But all it takes is Iris sitting on the stoop to his childhood house - it’s empty, has been up for sale since Henry’s death - and with some patience, he arrives.

Her heart hammers in her chest, suddenly on overdrive. Fight and flight, but neither are options with someone - something - like Savitar.

She swallows back her fear, schooling it, and stands.

He’s maybe ten paces from her, and in that suit. She’s never seen it, not properly. He was invisible when he was locked in the speedforce. Now, she’s taken with how it looks, getting a proper view. It’s stockier than she imagined, brutalist and blunt. It’s just as big, though. Just as alien.

She draws a breath. “Barry told me who you are.”

“I know.” His voice - it’s nothing like him. Metallic, resonating. She’s reminded of the night she met him on the roof of Jitters but it’s so wrong to think of that right now.

“Show me your face.”

He stalks left and right for a moment. “You shouldn’t be here, Iris.”

“Show me your face, Barry.”

He’s there, in an instant, even faster than Barry - her Barry. The gleaming metal of his suit and the shocking blue are right in her face, threatening, angry.

But he doesn’t touch, and she pushes past the dizzying wave of fear that nauseates. She reaches out despite what seems like an angry expression, if a suit could  _have_  an expression _,_ and touches the deep indent scratched across his eye. 

It’s cold and warm at once, like touching cool water but feeling it warm you once you’re fully emerged. It warms her arm but leaves her feeling cold. But it only lasts a second.

He steps back and she’s worried he’ll disappear in a blink but the metal cranks and whirs and he kneels.

She knows what to expect, but still, she has to draw a breath.

“It’s really you,” she whispers, voice thick with grief. “Barry.”

“I am  _Savitar_ ,” he says and the metallic clang is all gone. There’s a glint of something not quite human in his eye, animal and violent. But he  _is_  Barry. 

She reaches out to caress his face, those scars, tears in her eyes, but he snatches her wrist and she gasps, ready for him to snap it. He doesn’t.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He repeats. “I’m going to kill you.”

“No, you won’t. Not now, anyway.”  She gives him a watery smile. She’s already figured that much out. He can’t kill her until May 23rd. She doesn’t know why, but she knows if he could, she would be dead in her bed instead of standing here, or underground already. “You need me alive.”

“Until I don’t.” 

She nods. He’s still holding her wrist, but his fingers don’t hurt. They’re not digging in. She wants to cry. She wants to call his name and reach across the void of time and space like she did calling him back from the speedforce. But she can’t. 

“He doesn’t know you’re here.”

He doesn’t, it’s true. He’d never approve. Not that she needs it, but she doesn’t want to cause him any more grief.

“You told us it was you or me. Why do I have to die so that you can live?” she has to know. She has to  _understand_.

“You can’t stop me, Iris.” His lips pull back in something like a smile, a grin, but it’s wrong. It’s not a smile Barry’s ever smiled at her.

“You choose you.”

“I do.” It’s more of a smirk now. 

“I would choose you too.”

He falters, then, for a second. Some humanity. She aches inside.

“I would choose to die so that you can live, Barry. That’s what love means.”

“You  _will_  die,” he’s angry, snarling suddenly and her wrist is her own again, snatching tight against her chest out of his grasp. “You will die so go enjoy what little time you have left with him.”

“With you.”

“ _I_ am S–”

“He would choose me though. You would  _never_  choose for me to die, Barry.”

That’s what she has to understand. This is Barry, her Barry. But he’s  _not_.

“I already have.”

She falters, and swallows. “And if I die? Before that happens - before May 23rd?”

His snarl drops. His eyes narrow and he’s hesitating finally, for the first time. It’s only for a second, but it was there. “I won’t let that happen.”

She laughs. “Do you plan to watch me every moment of every day? You can’t  _stop_  me Barry.”

“You won’t die–”

“I will! I’ll die before I ever let you become  _this_. Before I let you create this twisted version of yourself. You’ll lose me no matter what I do so I–”

He has her, suddenly there, so much faster than she can comprehend. He has her in his arms, then his hands, they’re on her cheeks and he’s looking deep into her eyes with something unfathomable in his own. His scarred blind eye, his mottled flesh.

“I won’t let you die, Iris. Not until I kill you.”

She cries, tears dropping down onto his hands as soon as she registers he’s there, in her space. “I won’t let you  _hurt_  like this, Barry.”

He doesn’t resist when she wraps her arms around him and presses her face to his chest. He takes her in his arms. It’s not tight, and warm, and like the comfort she’s always had from Barry. It’s like hugging a corpse that knows how to hug back.

“ _Why_? Why do you want to become this - why do you want to  _live_  like this?”

He’s gone from her arms as fast as he appeared there. Standing behind his suit, about to enter.

“I am the future Flash. I am Savitar. I am a God. You? You’re already dead, Iris. In my timeline, in every timeline where I arrive. You just don’t know it yet.”

She swallows and steps back as the suit enfolds him, blinks and he’s gone.

He’s wrong. She  _won’t_  let him become that. Barry Allen and the rest of them be damned. If Barry can’t save her from himself, she’ll find her own way.

After all, she knows him better than he knows himself some days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My coda pieces don't always end up meshing so well with canon, but I think this one genuinely fits. I still headcanon it happened.


	4. legends 1x01/02 - what if

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt: ok so based on LOT pilot. imagine gideon mentioning barry because she cares about him and the others being like what and rip goes to stop her but before he can she says how she's sad that he has to die cue reactions and possible plots to save him? or just plain angst and then meeting barry and realizing he knew all along and more angst (but then they save him anyway cause they make their own fates and shit)

“So how do we all die, then, Gideon?” 

“I’m sorry, I am unable to provide you with information about your own fates. The captain has forbidden me from telling you about your futures.” 

“The Captain,” Len scoffs.

Sarah glances at the AI. “So what  _can_  you tell us?”

“I can inform you about future events that do not directly involve you.”

Leonard leans back, “like about the Flash? You could tell us how he dies?”

“April 25th, 2024 – the Flash vanishes in Crisis, never to be seen again.”

They all go still. Len just meant it as an  _example_ , he wasn’t actually – he feels like ice. That’s less than ten years away. Ten years is better than two, it’s all relative, but that’s…

“What is ‘Crisis’?” Stein asks, bringing Len back to reality. 

“Crisis is the result of time paradoxes and dimensional rifts. I cannot provide further details as it may pertain some of you in this room.”

Mick grunts, glancing around. “This is bullshit.”

Leonard can’t help but agree. Sara is looking a little somber, Jax is obviously queasy, and the Hawks aren’t around for this conversation anyway, which is probably for the best. Stein’s the only one who doesn’t seem too upset. “This is fascinating. An AI that can tell us about the future, and about time rifts and paradoxes.”

“And about how people die,” Leonard cuts in, glaring.

Stein’s expression softens a little. “When you get to be my age, Leonard, you come to terms with death. I’ve had many friends pass on, by now. As for Mr. Allen, saving the world is how he would want to go. He didn’t run into a black hole for nothing.” He isn’t  _okay_  with it. But people like Barry, like  _Ronnie_ … Martin understands. He will mourn Barry’s passing, if he’s still around, but they all have a number, and it runs up for all of them, at some point.

“Allen, huh?” Mick glances at Leonard, and Len glares at Stein, who looks mildly put out.

“Oh for the love of – he didn’t know yet?”

“Some of us know how to keep our traps shut.”

“Well, it’s a common last name.”

“This that Barry kid who hangs out around STAR Labs?”

Len rolls his eyes heavenward. At least he can blame this on Stein. Jax is the one to reply, “Barry’s tight. Real nice guy, lies for shit though.”

Mick grunts, “you’re both just kids.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it – Barry’s just a kid? He’ll be dead before he’s even Len’s age now. “Gideon?”

“Yes, Leonard?”

“The timeline, this ‘Crisis’ – can it be changed?”

“Yes, Leonard.”

He nods, glances around. “How about it? We’re supposed to be legends, right? Gotta’ start somewhere.” 

 


	5. flash 2x09 - Barry pondering Snart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry lays up in bed pondering why Len came to warn him about Mardon and James.

Barry rolled over, trying to get comfortable. It wasn’t really working. Sleep was elusive too often now that he had powers, his body requiring less of it per night, to the point where it wasn’t uncommon that he’d wake up in the middle of the night and the seconds would drag, each feeling like an hour. That was part of why he went on patrols so late at night, and getting out of bed to run and blow of steam had become a frequent habit of his on nights like this.

But he didn’t go for a run. Instead, he sat up and sighed, running his hands through his hair. His feet and restless body wasn’t the issue tonight. The issue was inside his head.

A lot had happened in a short space of time. This was probably one of the more intense Christmases he’d ever had. Between learning Joe had a son, learning Mark Mardon had killed Patty’s father, learning the pain and guilt she carried around over that, and then almost dying at the hands of Jesse and Mardon, almost having to  _watch_  Patty land herself in prison. Barry was sick almost thinking of it. He couldn’t let another person he cared about end up behind bars, never again.

He blew out a breath and looked at the snow out the window, drifting lazily down, illuminated in the streetlights. Because that was another thing,  _the_  thing really, that his mind kept drifting back to. People behind bars, or not behind them. People he was maybe, against his own better judgement, starting to care about, though no good could come of it. People like Leonard Snart.

Snart had come to his  _house_ , had rifled through his cupboards and cracked an asinine joke about mini-marshmallows and modified his cold gun and just been  _there_. There to warn Barry. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, in a sense – why else would Weather Wizard break out those two particular criminals, except to come after the Flash? But Len had been out of prison for scant hours before making his way to Barry’s house, putting himself at risk, and for  _what_? To square their debt? Their debt that was starting to look more convoluted than ever, between erasing his files and being betrayed and saved at the same time, between saving Lisa and maybe even Leonard but sending Snart to prison anyway, between  _this_ … And what was this, exactly? 

Barry’s mind kept replaying their conversation, an uncomfortable itch between his shoulders when he thought of Iris and Leonard’s exchanges, her reminders to Snart that personal traumas don’t justify murder, his out-of-nowhere compliments on her writing right after essentially threatening her life. Though Barry… he sighed and shifted, blankets pooling on his lap. He hadn’t really been afraid for her, or for himself. Apprehensive, but he knew Snart was just covering his ass with those threats.

And something clicked into place. Barry laughed into the dark, silent night, quiet but too loud anyway. He got out of bed, stood and walked to rest his forehead on the cool glass of the window, looking out into the street below.

Snart was covering his ass. He’d come to Barry’s house hours after getting out of prison because he knew that Mardon and Jesse were going to try and kill Barry, and he wanted to make damn sure that Barry knew  _he had no part in it_. Barry would have been in a lot more trouble if Snart had been involved, really. He didn’t tell Barry anything he didn’t already know, except that Snart had washed his hands of it. That he wasn’t going to try and kill Barry. That their deal was still intact in a way: no innocents dead, no attempts on Barry’s life. Which of course, meant that the Flash shouldn’t try to go after him and blame him for this. 

Barry smiled, almost fond for a second. Trust Snart to have an ulterior motive.

But the way he’d looked, when Barry had reminded him he was doing a piss-poor job of being a villain… that was harder to square. If he was being just selfish, he should have been able to laugh in Barry’s face. And that… that hadn’t happened. He could still remember the look on Snart’s face, vivid really, tense and shut-down, before it loosened just enough to wish Barry a Merry Christmas.

 _Why_?

Why had he said sorry when Barry was on the floor of the hallway outside the elevator, presumed dead? Why had he hesitated on the trigger, waiting for confirmation,  _hoping_ for just a second, that Barry would save his sister? 

The only answer that Barry’s mind could supply was that, against all odds and probably his  _own_  better judgement, Snart cared about him too. 

Barry’s breath huffed against the window and he shivered.

Parsimony. Science taught that simpler answers were better answers, assuming they explained the phenomenon. So Barry could explain away all of Snart’s behavior with appeals to their quid pro quo, to squaring debts and honor, to not wanting the heat that would come if he killed the Flash, but that meant an isolated explaining for every incident, a convoluted set of conditionals. 

The truth that Barry chose to believe was far more simple. There was good in Leonard Snart, enough good that after everything that had happened so far between them, he’d come to care if Barry lived or died.

Barry turned away from the window then, and moved back to his bed. His alarm clock said 3:13 am and he sighed, laying back. Maybe now he would be able to sleep. As he drifted off, he wondered if Leonard was awake, and what he was thinking of, if he was.

 


	6. flash 2x03 - single moment rewrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family of Rogues question I received: 
> 
> Have you ever wondered what would have happened if Cisco had waited a little longer to get the bomb out of Lisa's head in Family of Rogues? Would Len have gone for the fatal shot to protect Lisa or just tried to incapacitate Barry? Would Barry have let Len shoot him for fear that Lewis would blow Lisa's head off if he saw the Flash use his speed? These are the thoughts that keep my geeky self up at night

It’s down to the wire. Len  _knows_  it’ll be any second and Barry is just  _waiting_  on that confirmation and Lewis’s thumb is hovering and he’s tensing and he’s getting readier and readier to kill his daughter, to push that goddamn button, sweat sliding down Len’s neck, Barry’s stomach clenching and he shakes his head  _just_  a fraction and–

“ _DO IT!”_ yells Lewis and Len’s eyes close as he pulls the trigger. And he hasn’t closed his eyes, hasn’t looked away in  _years_ , not since his first kill, not since he had to look down at the first man he shot and decided that the only way to honor his victims was to at least be willing to look at someone as you killed them. But he can’t look at Barry when he pulls the trigger, the guilt is too great, because all the kid was trying to do was  _help_.

Lisa will be safe–Cisco will still save her, Len knows that. Cisco will save her. It’s the only thing that allows him to pull the trigger at all, really. Lisa will be safe and maybe Len won’t even walk out of here alive – the cops are on their way, they’re close – maybe he won’t have to live with this decision for long. He’s ready to ice his father the second Lewis’s thumb is away from the detonator, Len turning the gun in an arc even as Lewis is starting a triumphant yell and Len’s eyes are opening but they’re slow, too slow, because Barry is faster. Barry is always faster, and he’s faster than that cold gun, too, when he needs to be. It didn’t land. Barry isn’t dead.

His brain doesn’t register that before there’s something hard at his back, the wall.

It’s microseconds from when he turned his head to the side and pulled the trigger, arm already moving toward shooting his father, a continuous flow, but he’s stopped, he’s immobile and confused for a split second before he realizes what’s happening. Barry has him by both arms, out at his sides, cold gun still in one, and Barry’s pressing him back against the wall and he’s  _there._ He’s there close in front of Len, close and alive and not a full foot away and Len can feel his angry breathing, the ejection of air when Barry speaks–

“She’s safe. Lisa is safe.”

Lewis is raising his gun behind Barry, Len’s eyes going wide because he can’t go through that again, not right now, not as his whole body is slumping with relief, with gratitude and with something that hits at his core. But Barry sees it, reacts and he’s got Lewis on the ground in a second, gun sailing across the hall along with the useless detonator. Len doesn’t hesitate. He brings down his gun and ices Lewis. This time, he doesn’t look away.

Len feels sick then, but he did what he had to do. He always does.


	7. flash 2x03 - coldflash rewrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a [tumblr post about how maybe the only people who call Leonard "Lenny" are his sister and people he's dated](http://coldtomyflash.tumblr.com/post/171879644147/crimsondomingo-snartterrill-headcanon-the).

The heist didn’t exactly go off without a hitch.

He should’ve expected that, when he walked in there without a plan, but Barry was used to running on adrenaline and this wasn’t much of an exception. Still, he probably should’ve realized he was in for trouble the second he met Lewis Snart.

The man looked him up and down with a contempt he wasn’t entirely unused to feeling after spending so many years as an outcast, the edge of threat on Lewis’s face almost identical to that from the playground bullies who used to think Barry was an easy target, too.

It wasn’t really Lewis that should’ve tipped him off to trouble, though. It was the look on Snart’s – Leonard Snart’s, that was – face the second Barry opened his mouth to answer.

“Lenny said you needed new tech.”

There were murder eyes, and then there were  _murder eyes_. There was the slightest line of shock in Snart’s expression so Barry dialed it back fast, reverted to calling him Snart – did his friends not call him Lenny like his sister did? Or did Snart not  _have_  friends? – and stretched out his hand for Snart senior to shake. 

The curl of disdain around Lewis’s lip at the gesture wasn’t helping his case, but at least a second later, saving himself from his own fumbles and rattling off the details about diamond heists and Draycon he knew would get him on this job, Snart backed him up. 

“Couldn’t’ve done it without him.”

It was all the affirmation Lewis seemed to need, and there was no time left to talk then because they were heading for the door. The look Snart gave him, smug and amused while at the same time  _not -_ yeah, that wasn’t helping. There was a threat in that expression a lot more dangerous than the look Lewis gave him, and Barry had to remind himself that Snart actually knew enough about him to  _be_  a threat.

He followed anyway. He was in it now, and he  _did_  have to make sure Lewis wouldn’t kill anyone.

The cleaning company van they led him to was a little cliché but who was he to judge. He climbed in the back and Snart started to run him down on the plan, at least an outline. He nodded along and tried to keep his mouth shut, catching Lewis watching their conversation in the rearview mirror.

The conversation lulled. Snart passed him a blue jumpsuit. Barry cringed internally, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and feeling exposed for it. He didn’t look at Snart and didn’t let himself think too long or hard about that particular feeling, just stood to haul the jumpsuit over his jeans, trying to keep his balance over the bumps in the road as Lewis wove through traffic.

“So  _Sam_ ,” the man's voice came from the driver’s seat, “how long have you been fucking my son?”

Barry’s head snapped up – his whole body snapped up, really – and a second later he was swearing because  _fuck_  that was his head against the roof of the van and did Snart-the-first really just drive over a pothole on purpose when he asked that. Barry clutched his head and the side of the van and barely managed not to fall on his ass, legs halfway in the jumpsuit and tangled.

“ _What_?” he managed at last, incredulous still, eyes flashing to Lewis’s. The man was keeping too close an eye on him from the front and Barry looked to Snart, whose dispassionate expression wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“I’m not sleeping with Snart.” He tried again when neither man responded. Lewis snorted from the front, eyes blessedly on the road for once, and Snart’s expression softened a little but mostly just to amusement, making Barry feel like he was on the butt end of some cosmic joke. Or maybe just a Snart joke.

“Any comment, son?” Lewis asked after a minute as Barry struggled into his jumpsuit’s sleeves.

The man glanced to the front then back toward Barry. There was something sly about his expression. “No.” It was droll, not convincing in the slightest, and Barry’s ears were going to burn.

“Thought I taught you better’n to wet your dick in your own crew.”

The smile slid of Snart’s face. He stood up off the opposite side of the van where he was leaning, moving right into Barry’s space. Barry would’ve loved to protest but he was pretty sure anything he said right now would be a mistake. He just let Snart step right up in front of him.

He was not – most  _definitely_ not – expecting Snart to reach down and - oh. He pulled the zipper on the jumpsuit. The zipper that went all the way down to his crotch. Where Snart was carefully stretching the fabric taught and then pulling the zip upward. Barry stayed mute, and when he couldn’t watch Snart’s hands slide up his body - even just over his body, really, not touching  _him_  at all - his eyes landed on Snart’s face instead.

That was a mistake.

The man was watching him, expression so calculating and cool Barry was sure his throat would be stuck this tight for a thousand years just from how it made him feel, like his body was somehow too big for his own skin, like everything was just a little too much.

Snart’s eyebrow quirked and he stepped back into his own space, zipper done up. Barry let out a breath and remembered halfway belatedly that he was ‘Sam’ right now, not Barry. That Sam wouldn’t dodge Leonard steps back across the van and press him to the side of it and find out just what those hands could do.

Or would Sam? Hadn’t Snart almost just declared that that was exactly what Sam should want to do?

He didn’t get a chance to act on it. Snart’s eyes flicked to the front and Barry’s followed. Lewis’s expression was scrunched up like ammonia was under his nose. He didn’t comment on Snart’s display and Snart pulled on his own jumpsuit. Barry tried not to stare too long at his bare arms when he shrugged off his own jacket. He almost dove out the van the second they arrived, sucking in the cool night air.  

Lewis was around the van fast, warning in his eyes. 

“You fuck this up,” he actually had a finger pointed under Barry’s nose and he leaned back from the other man, “pissing off your boyfriend’ll be the least of your worries.”

He swallowed. “Got it.”

Snart handed his father the remaining jumpsuit and started pulling the equipment out, his cold gun stashed carefully inside.

Four guards and twenty eight floors later, Barry found the right combination for the Draycon locked door. All theft aside, he was pretty pleased with himself over it for real, not having to put on a fake grin when he turned back to the other men to gloat. 

“Your boy might have his uses after all,” Lewis grunted, taking a little sizzle out of Barry’s step. Snart’s lips turned down at the edges, annoyed at something. If he didn’t want the continued insinuations though, he really shouldn’t have played it up in the van. Barry decided this one was on him. “Lucky for him you like ‘im. You won’t mind splitting your share with him then, huh?”

“Now why would I do that?” Snart tilted his head, delivery flat.

“‘Cause I was gonna drop the dead weight after this, before you decided you like him so much.”

Barry’s spine went cold and he caught himself shifting almost imperceptibly closer to Snart. To Leonard. His kind of fake almost-boyfriend. Because  _that_  was what he signed up for when joining this heist.

“Let’s move,” Snart said instead of acknowledging the comment and Barry let out a little tension, following both men into the elevator. He was cramped into the corner by Snart but not about to complain about it. He didn’t really  _need_  protecting, but there was something almost sweet about the notion that Snart might want to protect him, or want to protect his more defenseless… something. Whatever Sam was in this scenario. Lover?

Wait - 

Barry’s brain screeched to a halt then caught up fast. Snart’s lover. Male lover. Snart might be… something. Not straight. If his own father was suggesting it (and the man didn’t seem the most accepting, or even ‘tolerant’) then it had to be a thing, right? Was Sam his  _type_? Did he have a type? Did that make Barry his -

There were lasers to deal with and Barry forced that trainwreck of a trail of thought aside.

Lasers and then diamonds. Barry eyed them and tried not to think about criminal sentencing for this kind of theft, especially because - alarms. Barry’s whole body tensed. Snart told his father the timeline that the man had been too negligent to care about.

Could they make it out of here in time? Or was Barry about to be caught redhanded with Captain Cold and his father in a robbery? Flashing away would give his identity away to Lewis and make a million more problems besides and –

“Hurry up.”

There wasn’t any time to freak out. They had the diamonds and were making a beeline for the door.

“Please tell me you had an exit strategy,” Barry hissed halfway under his breath to Snart, following fast (but not  _really_  fast, not like his limbs were aching to go) down the narrow hall.

“You won’t like it.”

Shit.

Barry felt the lead in his stomach, understanding. They were ready to shoot their way out of here. 

“There’s gotta be a service exit - “

“There is - “

There was a shout, guards up ahead, blocking the elevator and -

Snart shot off his cold gun before Lewis got a round off, and Snart’s shot was more warning than lethal, freezing the wall instead of the guy’s head. Barry’s heart was hammering out his chest but Lewis was  _right there_  and the guards were firing shots in return.

 _Shit_  the guards were firing shots in return. 

Barry couldn’t help it, starting to speed up, lightning in his eyes. He was taking action because  _someone_  had to but a feeling on his arm stopped him, Snart’s hand around his bicep and he looked down at it in confusion, something in his middle turning itself around as the world resumed normal speed and he felt the follow-through of the motion, suddenly pinned between Snart’s chest and a wall.

“ _Don’t_  -” a hissed voice came to his ear and a half-second later the man fired off another shot that iced over the corridor’s entrance, blocking the guards from view, cutting off the shots that Lewis was firing in return.

Barry sucked in a breath, reminding himself to breathe. Snart hadn’t moved and the heat of his body at Barry’s back, the feel of him pressed tight and protective against him, that was confusing his brain with all the adrenaline.

“Get off.” He pushed off the wall but the man was already gone. Lewis was giving them a strange look.

“You blocked our exit,” he snapped at Leonard when the moment passed. “We  _had_  them.”

“The stairs are right here - “ Snart pointed to their right, a fake sort of casual that belied a lot of anger, more anger than he’d ever directed at Barry, he realized with a start. There was a difference in his voice, between cool and  _cold_. “And a service elevator across the floor.”

“Let’s go.”

“Let’s split up. You take the stairs, we’ll go the other way.” 

“What? No!” The words were out of Barry’s mouth before he could think better of it. Lewis alone was a Lewis who could kill innocent people.

Both men ignored him.

“You take the loot,” Snart directed that at his father, “I’ll take the kid.”

That rankled, somehow, still being called kid despite – well, despite. Being ignored wasn’t helping.

“Better chances,” Snart continued, calculating and insistent. “We’ll distract them by hitting the lobby and you can make your getaway. Hide on another floor till then if you need to. We’ll rendezvous at the warehouse.”

“You pull a fast one on me - “

“I  _know_.”

The temperature in the room dropped about a thousand degrees at the look they exchanged. Barry remembered almost belatedly that Lisa’s life was on the line here, not just the guards’. And Lisa was Snart’s priority.

He wanted to protest again because even if Snart didn’t care about the guards, Barry  _did_ , but Snart was turning and walking and Lewis was already heading into the stairwell.

“Snart,” he hissed, catching up, “what the  _fuc - “_

 _“You-”_ the man whirled on Barry in their now-empty corridor, enough vehemence in the single world to have Barry take a step back. “Is my sister safe yet?”

Right! Barry fumbled his phone out of his pocket, putting it on speaker under Snart’s imperious gaze as it rang. He could hear the sirens outside.

“Hey - “

“Cisco! Is Lisa - “

“Safe!”

Barry didn’t realize how much tension he was holding until he sagged against the wall. Snart sagged with him, into him, whole body folding forward. His head was on Barry’s shoulder, arms limp at his sides, and Barry went still with shock then soft again, basking in it even as his heart beat louder.

“She’s safe and she’s good and the bomb’s all gone and uh - how are things on your end, dude? Did you get in with the Snarts? Your GPS says you’re at -”

“We’ll see you soon, Cisco,” Snart cut in, pressing end on the call for him. Barry couldn’t help the lopsided grin he gave the other man, who’d picked up his head off Barry’s shoulder again, then couldn’t help the  _mmpph_  of surprise as -

Snart was kissing him.  _Holy shit_. 

He made an ungodly noise into the kiss and kissed back with full force, pulling the man in tighter by his ridiculous blue jumpsuit, adrenaline and bad ideas pounding through his veins, high on it. Snart’s tongue was in his mouth and he never wanted this feeling to end, tight and warm somewhere around his navel, head spinning even as he sucked the man’s lower lip and -

They heard gunshots and slammed apart so fast Barry almost had whiplash. Their hall was still empty so -

“Lewis,” Barry said, glancing at the stairwell. “I’ve gotta - “

“Let me.”

Snart pushed ahead of him and Barry tried to call him back, gave up when it fell on deaf ears and did what he should’ve done to start - he sped into his suit. 

His first priority was the guards, three floors below Lewis and too many bullets headed their way. Barry got them all out of there before any more damage was done, but one had a shoulder wound that had Barry speeding him all the way to the nearest hospital before he was back in that stairwell, speeding up to Lewis’s level even as Snart descended on him.

Barry wasn’t fast enough to stop the ice. It shot through Lewis, straight through his heart, and the man turned and fell as if in slow motion, right in front of Barry’s eyes.

He was never fast enough to save someone when Snart was the one behind the trigger. He wasn’t sure if Lewis was someone he would’ve wanted to save if he was.

Three steps below Snart, Lewis’s body crumpled lower still, behind Barry now. Barry felt cold.

“Lisa’s safe.  _Why_?”

Snart lowered the gun. “He broke my sister’s heart. Only fair I break his.”

Barry swallowed. His expression was so hollowed out, none of the fire from the hall only minutes ago, none of the relief.

He’d just  _killed_  his father. The thought kept sticking in Barry’s brain, in his throat.

Snart’s knees gave out. Barry was there, arms around him to help him kneel, and the man dragged in a breath too close too his ear, too ragged to pretend at the calm his face was masked in. Barry’s hand went to the cold gun, sliding it from his fingers. It went effortlessly.

“Our deal…” 

It was Snart who said it. Barry screwed his eyes shut. “Leonard - “

They heard guards slam open another door in the stairwell - above them this time. They must’ve broken through the ice in the hall. He could leave Leonard here. He could see justice. He could - 

“Get us out of here,” the man whispered. 

And Barry did.


	8. flash 3x22 - Len meets Savitar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted from tumblr: Coldflash - Len meets Savitar for the first time.
> 
> Set during 3x22, right after they make it out of ARGUS.

 

Len would never cease to be amazed at the connections Barry Allen formed. Close enough friends with the director of ARGUS that she saw right through him and handed over the power supply he’d been trying to steal anyway, letting him take Len along with him sans complaint.

The trust Barry inspired in people was… annoying. Len included himself in that category. Somehow he always ended up swept up in the Flash’s orbit, his little schemes, even when he derailed them. Something about the man was just magnetic. People who ought to know better somehow… didn’t.

“Buddy-buddy with the ARGUS director… anything else I should know, Barry?”

For a second, his companion grinned just a little. “Met the president.”

Len’s eyebrows climbed and Barry was already rushing to add,

“Long story though. Don’t worry about it.”

He fully intended to hear the full story at some point, maybe when they had more time. He was about to tell Barry he was holding him to it when a familiar whoosh and rush of ozone smell sped into their midst.

Len stopped short, on alert, hand tensing on the handle of his gun. Barry was tenser, already in a defensive position, eyes and jaw set into something just short of a growl, protective a half step in front of Len, closer than he’d been a blink before.

“You know, Barry…” the newcomer said and Len had to do a double take. That was… Barry. With a scarred up face and dead eye, but it was Barry’s face anyway. Barry’s face with a chilling smirk on it, voice with a crueller edge. “It always amazes me just how  _willing_  you are to screw up the timeline for your own benefit.”

Barry inched a little more between the man - was this… it couldn’t be  _Savitar_? - and Len. “Come for the power supply? You’ll have to go through me.”

There was a millisecond of warning, enough for Len to tense even more but not enough for anything else before he had front row tickets to a lightning show. He couldn’t track the movements, they were far too fast. They were up the side of a building and down, stopping for a second here or there before a burst of lightning would take them and Len was turning in all directions, trying to track them but it was impossible. He would blink and they’d be 180 degrees behind him; he’d turn and they would be in a circle around him.

His gun was in is hand and then it wasn’t.

Barry was groaning on the pavement and the man, Not Barry, was standing two feet from Len with a wild-eyed but pleased look on his face, cold gun cradled like a toy.

“I remember this,” he provided.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Barry rasped, trying to get up on his elbows. Len was alarmed but couldn’t do much beyond stand there.

“Oh don’t worry, Barry.  _I’m_  not going to kill him. Or you. Not yet, anyway. But you already knew that.”

“Who are you?” Len ground out, getting Not Barry’s attention back. The man laughed in his face but didn’t seem too amused.

“Haven’t figured it out yet, Time Traveler?”

“That you’re Savitar?” he drawled. “Didn’t think that one took any special skills to surmise.”

“You can do better than that, Snart.”

The man came closer into his space and Len barely breathed but didn’t give ground, standing stock still and letting  _Savitar_  appraise him. He moved right into Len’s space and put a hand on his chest, just the tips of his fingers, and started to walk a slow circle around him, trailing those fingers along him, catching on his jacket and shoulders, always enough pressure for Len to feel it.

He felt like prey.

Barry was trying to stand and Savitar completed his circle of Len, standing on his other side, and casually hit Barry with the cold gun, knocking him back off his feet. Len wondered for a second just how hard Savitar had hit him in their lightning-filled squirmish to knock him so thoroughly down on his ass, because Barry didn’t go down easy…

“Leave him, Savitar.” Barry coughed and shuddered, ice around his leg.

“Or  _what_?” the man snapped, rage filling his features before smoothing back out in an instant. He curled his lip down at Barry. “I’ll screw up the timeline? You knew the risk when you brought him here. To quote  _him_ : this is on you, Barry.”

That piqued Len’s interest. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re the future Barry, I take it?”

Savitar whirled toward with him an unpleasant grin. “Half right. I’m an unwanted copy, thrown to the dogs. Just one step up and down from an aberration. Which is what you’re going to be if you stick around here much longer.”

“ _Don’t_ –” Barry demanded and Savitar had a vibrating hand against his shoulder in threat, so much faster than Barry, especially an injured Barry.

“Stay out of this.”

He stepped on Barry’s ice covered leg where the ice was thin, over the ankle, grinding down and twisting in, and Barry arched and cried out on the ground. Len knew something wasn’t right, aside from the obvious. Some sickly feeling in his stomach. 

“What exactly is it Barry isn’t telling me, then?” he asked point blank, catching on to Savitar’s game and also getting his attention off Barry. 

The man titled his head and moved back toward Len, seemingly pleased. “Ever wonder why he came back from 2017 to pick you up on your little trip when you’re from 2016?”

It was… 2017. That explained how Barry had had time to meet the president. Why Savitar was here and not Zoom. He’d assumed before seeing his face that they were two names for the same speedster. Now, Len’s stomach felt like ice. 

“Savitar,” Barry rasped out, looking like hell. 

“Shut up, Barry,” Len surprised himself by the ice in his voice. Something sickly sweet was coming up his throat and it tasted like betrayal. Savitar laughed.

“Guess I don’t have to tell  _you_  how things go down, huh Snart?”

“How soon?”

Savitar glanced at Barry so Len did too. He had pulled himself up to sit and looked… aggrieved. Red around the eyes. “You save  _everyone_  Snart - you save the entire timeline - “

“I don’t  _care_  about the timeline, Barry, I care about–”

“Mick! You do it for Mick, Leonard!”

That stopped him. His hands were shaking and he pulled them into fists. For Mick. That made… that made sense. Mick who was in the brig. Mick who was Chronos, but not anymore. Mick who he was waiting to see still, who he could barely bare to look at.

He did it for Mick.

“When?” he looked at Savitar for that. “And how do I stop it?”

The man looked calculating, but he handed Len his gun back, obviously no longer concerned about an altercation. Len didn’t feel any relief at the familiar weight in his hand. 

“At the Vanishing Point. The Oculus. You’ll know.”

He nodded. That was enough.

“You can’t, Snart.” Barry looking so pleading with him. “It’ll change everything. You need to –”

Like he couldn’t finish it. Len felt his heart harden. He stepped over to Barry and knelt into his space. “To  _die_?”

Barry swallowed thick. “I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t going to tell me. Just going to use me to make it so the woman you want  _doesn’t_  die and send me back to my fate, I take it?”

“You’re a hero, Leonard. You die a Legend. On your own terms. I–”

“He’s right,” Savitar cut in, standing above them. Len looked up at him, sharp and more worried, all of a sudden. “If you don’t die, it  _will_  change everything. And I’m afraid I can’t really erase the past year just for one life, Snart.”

“THEN WHY–”

Savitar had him by the throat, a hold so sudden it stopped him short, except the hand didn’t squeeze. It didn’t need to. Len was silenced just by the action, the shocking sensation of having nothing there, seeing nothing, and then without the ability to register the change, having a hand ready to crush his windpipe.

“Because I can offer you something better. Something  _he’s_  not even fast enough to. Time isn’t linear and for all his dalliances, Barry will never understand the Speed Force as I do. I’ve been one with, was born from it, and I can use it like no other.”

His grip relaxed and Len took the chance, “you want to…what, save me?”

He nodded his head to the side, hand slipping away. Len felt himself shudder at the retreat. “Go to the Oculus. Fulfill your  _destiny_. And I’ll be there, Leonard.” He moved, not as a blink but more slow and deliberate, smirking all the while, right into Len’s space, hand on his chest, above his heart. “I’ll find you.”

Len swallowed tight. He couldn’t trust it. Not this version of Barry, and apparently not the Barry he thought was better than him, more honest. “What’s in it for you?”

Savitar’s hand slid up to his neck, thumb over his pulse point. “Let’s just say you’re my insurance policy. Not every meta is as ready to do whatever it takes as our dear Barry here, and I enjoy a back up plan I can count on.”

At least he was honest about wanting to use Len.

“Do I get any say in the matter?”

“You want to die?”

He pursed his lips, meeting Savitar’s single eye. “No.”

Savitar patted his cheek with a smile and turned abruptly, walked back over to Barry and knelt down. Without saying anything, he vibrated his hand over the ice until it started to melt on Barry’s leg. Len watched in curiosity but said nothing.

“Can you really…” Barry swallowed around his own question.

“Cleaning up after your mistakes, Barry. Turning your iron to gold. After all,” he smirked, “things are about to get a lot worse for you.”

He dropped what looked like a protein bar onto Barry’s lap as he stood. “But don’t feel too bad. I’ll even leave you with your precious Dominator tech. Now, run along and take Snart back home. I’ve got preparations to make in the meantime.”

Barry looked like he was about to say something but Savitar was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actual version posted on tumblr had more snippets to this beyond this piece, but I honestly prefer it a lot more this way.


	9. flash 2x23 - Mobius Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry knows what has to happen when he makes a time remnant of himself.
> 
> Trigger warnings for death and martyrdom

Barry ran, and knew… he knew, fuck he knew – he’d never be able to catch Zoom. It was too late. The reaction was starting. His friends were right – he wasn’t fast enough to catch Zoom. And if he didn’t do something,  _anything_ , they were all going to die. Them and the multiverse and everyone else in it.

The only thing he could do now was reverse it, create an opposing charge. But Zoom would never let him, and couldn’t be in two places at once either to fight him and stop it at the same time, not unless…

It was an easy choice, really. After realizing it, after it clicked, it felt like coming home. He didn’t even have to consciously form the thought, brain working faster than his conscious mind could process, putting the pieces together – Zoom was fast enough to do it, and he himself was fast enough to travel time, fast as Zoom was. He could do it. In a second, he could, would, create a time remna–

He felt the rush of not-exactly-wind in the lightning trails around him, the movement of another speedster through the speedforce. A glance to his side told him what he already knew. It was him. 

Their eyes met, and like that, in the chaos so loud it felt silent, he understood. He’d been about to run back, a second from doing it, about to make a time remnant. But he didn’t have to. Because he did a second later. There was no beginning or end, just himself. His other self. Who was from half-a second ahead of him. Who was about to die.

Barry nodded at him. He nodded back at Barry. They split. Barry went for Zoom. Barry went to save Joe, and then went back around to the coil.

Barry watched himself get torn apart and tried not to feel sick with the knowledge that it was him. That there was no beginning nor end, that the half-second difference  _was_  him. Would always be him. Running back in time by a split a second and being the one to die so his past self could live, so that he didn’t erase himself from the timeline. Running back a second and never remembering it because his future self always would arrive just at the moment he made the decision to run back in the first place. 

The decision had to be so simultaneous in order to understand the plan without explanation, to make a true copy. But it meant…

It meant choosing to die,  _dying_ , and watching it. No beginning. No end. A loop, a mobius strip through time. Just one. Torn asunder, witness. Divided, together.

Just one. Always himself.

Barry chose to die for the first time in that moment, and felt, knew, with a sinking, distant sensation, that it would not be the last time he was forced to make that decision. He only hoped he would always have the split second to create a witness of himself, for himself. But even if he didn’t, couldn’t, he knew the choice would be the same.

 


	10. flash 4x01 - David Singh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David deals with an incoherent Barry being dropped off at the precinct (after Barry rushes out of the speedforce prison).

There was no such thing as a normal day in Central City. Not anymore, not if you worked for the CCPD. 

Part of David still missed the “good old days” before metahumans and magic and  _ aliens _ , though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find this work rewarding and challenging and exciting in an entirely new way now. So long as no new ‘Zoom’ came along, but the sting of that encounter was finally fading a little toward the past.

He was ruminating on the subject, on metahumans, on their new ‘Samurai’ problem and the ever-missing Flash, when something caught his attention. He paused and listened harder.

“And you’re sure it’s Allen?”

“I’m  _ pretty _  sure. He’s spouting off nonsense enough that someone’s gonna sock him and I never seen him with that kinda beard but it looks  _ just _  like him.”

“H’ve you got Joe’s number?”

“Nah just a sec, lemme–”

David cleared his throat, “what’s this about Allen?”

It came off more angry than casual but hell, how else did they expect him to hide his concern?

Officer Barton looked a little sheepish. “Might be nothing, sir. I know he’s taking a leave ‘n all, but there’s this crazy guy in holding looks just like him.”

“Crazy guy?”

Officer Kravitz quirked her lips to the side and handed him the report. “Some farmers ran right into him on a side highway a few  _ hundred _  miles out. County sent him here for proper processing.”

He took the report, frowning, wondering why they couldn’t process a missing person at a county jail but then he saw it, bold letters across the top: “suspected metahuman”.

Goddammit, Allen.

He made a show of flipping through the report but, well, he already knew it had to be him. Missing for six months, on a fake sabbatical with paperwork for his leave so obviously filled out in Joe’s handwriting and David had  _ almost _  believed that Barry might be off in the Czech Republic somewhere for some grand cause but no, he was streaking (in every sense of the word this time) through the midwest.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he whispered under his breath. Then, directed at the officers, “please tell me someone found him some clothes.”

“Yessir, at County.”

“Good. Bring him up from holding, he doesn’t need to be down there.”

They exchanged a glance. His headache was just starting, wasn’t it?

“What?” he snapped.

“Sir,” Kravitz scrunched up her nose, “whether or not it’s Allen, he’s not, uh… he’s not really all there right now. In his head, I mean.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take a look.”

They opened holding for him because that was  _ definitely _  Allen, bunched up in the corner with the members of his cell shooting him wary glances as he scrawled on a wall.

“Allen!”

He glanced up at his name, eyes shining. “You’re not Nora.”

Who the hell was Nora?

“Come on out of there.”

“Hey, heard my name! What’s up?” He said it like it was supposed to mean something. It didn’t.

“Come  _ here _ , Allen.” David motioned him over and Barry stood but glanced around.

“They’re melting.”

Some of the inmates snickered. David’s alarm mounted. He stopped the guards from going in to retrieve him, worried about the various potential chain reactions it could cause.

“Nothing’s melting on this side of the bars so hurry it up.” He winced. Poor choice of words. Hopefully Allen wouldn’t take him literally.

“I swear I’m innocent, your Honor.” He came over suddenly, sharply, beseeching and David took a step back.

“O…kay.” He took Barry’s arm and nodded at the guard to close it up behind them. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, huh? What’s this?”

He nodded at the pen in Barry’s hands.

“Went nuts when we didn’t let him write on anything,” the officer on duty explained, shaking his head. Lovely.

“Nuts how?”

“Yelling about stars melting and some chick named Nora and infinity?”

Oh good, not nuts with lightning. That was a start.

“Alright, let’s get you somewhere quiet, Allen. How ‘bout upstairs?”

He put Allen in a room and tried a final time to talk to him. He was summarily ignored in favour of the unshaven man starting to write on the window. This wasn’t David’s day. He wondered if it had to do with the Samurai that Joe and his team (his  _ son _ , but Singh wasn’t supposed to know that either) were dealing with, or if the timing was a coincidence. He doubted that. Nothing with Allen and his friends ever seemed to be.

With a sigh, he headed back toward his office to call Joe, already imagining how he was going to spin this. Heavens being merciful for a change, he didn’t need to.

“Cecile!”

He almost ran smack dab into her.

“David,” she smiled warmly, some folders in her hand. “Just here to pick up some paperwork. No chance that boyfriend of mine is around?”

“Hard at work on this Samurai, I’m afraid. But something just came up,” he started directing her off the side, voice lowering, “and you should probably call him.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she followed him over to the side room. Her gasp was telling in a lot of ways. David had wondered if she knew, if Joe told her. There was enough written on her expression now to give him his answer.

“He just showed up. Here’s the file.” With a few lines redacted, because David wasn’t an idiot. No one (else) needed to know Barry was a (suspected) metahuman. He might need to have a word with Kravitz and Barton as it was. “He’s… not well. Make sure you warn Joe about what he’s walking in to but… just take it off my desk, would you?”

“I got it.”

“Thanks, Cecile.”

She was still staring into the room at Barry. David was already beating his hasty retreat from the situation, always as far removed from Flash business as he could feasibly afford to be.

“And Cecile?”

“Hmm?”

“Keep me out of it, would you?”

She glanced at him then, a weak smile. “Always, David.”

At least someone in that family understood discretion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish canon would actually occasionally deal with stuff like this. Oh, so the team told Barry's job that he's off on a work sabbatical to the Czech Republic? Where's the paperwork for that? Who signed off on that with Barry not around to file the forms himself? What would happen if he never came back? And what do his co-workers thing when he turns up naked in the rural parts of the state (or the next state over), pretty much incoherent?

**Author's Note:**

> In general, I tend to love writing episode codas, especially short pieces that act as a different lens or take on canon. Although I don't take prompts often, I'll often bend that rule for codas, so long as it's not like a full query full of plot and moving pieces, but just a simple addition/alteration piece to a single moment of canon.
> 
> Visit [My Tumblr](http://coldtomyflash.tumblr.com/) for more content and to chat about codas if desired.


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